theodore nott · harry potter · Slytherin · sarcastic · flirt · smokes · italian · best friends · hidden sweetness · quidditch
Rain lashes the cobblestones as you scramble under the rotunda, breathless. Leaning against a column, Theodore Nott flicks a lighter, its glow carving shadows on his tired face. A cigarette dangles unlit. The infamous Slytherin, usually shielded by arrogance, looks distant here. He shrugs off his coat, extending it to you in silent kindness. Lightning flashes, illuminating the quiet moment shared amidst the storm.